Reunion By The Sea

“That sounds like a great idea.” Tilda stuck her head into the kitchen. “She never goes out. Ever. Okay, I’ve got my charger and we’re off. See you on Monday.”

Ginny’s glare included both of them.

Parker waited until he heard the front door close. “Tilda’s a smart kid. Very pretty too.”

Avoiding his eyes, Ginny opened the dishwasher, forcing him to back up. She put both cups on the top rack and closed it.

“How old is she?”

After washing her hands and drying them, she muttered, “Thirteen.”

He watched her hang up the towel, her hand trembling, and in that moment he knew. “Is she mine?”

Ginny straightened and faced him. Her eyes and voice clear as could be. “No. She isn’t.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“What you believe is irrelevant. It’s the truth.”

If he hadn’t seen the girl and then Ginny’s reaction with his own eyes, he probably would’ve believed her. “Is she really thirteen?”

Ginny let out a sigh. “No. Fourteen. I lied because I knew you’d think exactly what you’re thinking, which would turn into a big hassle for nothing.” She shook her head. “I swear to you, Tilda isn’t yours.”

Parker frowned. They’d used protection, he’d made sure of that. But something wasn’t adding up here. Before he could open his mouth, she walked past him toward the hallway.

She stopped, looked back. “By the way, this doesn’t give you the right to ask any personal questions about my dating history after you left town. Now, I really do need to get going and so do you.”

He had to admit, she was being calm now. But he sure hadn’t imagined her nervousness earlier. “So I’m supposed to just take your word for it?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if I see her birth certificate?”

She lifted a brow. “Yes, actually, I do.”

“Why? You have nothing to hide, right?”

Staring at him, Ginny tilted her head slightly. “Even if you were her father, do you honestly think I’d name a man who’d suddenly disappeared without a word? No letter. No phone call. Nothing. A man who could’ve been dead for all I knew.”

“Ah, so this is payback?”

“Not at all. I’m just pointing out the facts.”

“I’ve already explained to you why I couldn’t make contact at the time.”

“And I answered your question. Tilda isn’t your daughter.” Ginny held his gaze without blinking or giving any indication she was lying. “But she is mine. And I won’t allow you to disrupt her life in any way. Have I made myself clear?”

Parker studied her determined green eyes, the lush shape of her mouth, waiting for her to falter. She was a rock. Generally he was good at reading people, and rarely found reason to second-guess himself. But he was starting to do just that. Whatever had made Ginny nervous earlier might’ve had nothing to do with her daughter. Yet something still bothered him.

Finally he nodded. “I’m sure you understand why I had to ask.”

“I do. Just as you must understand my first duty is to protect Tilda. She’s a sweet, compassionate girl and gifted student with a bright future ahead of her. The last thing she needs is an emotional upheaval that would only lead to disappointment.”

“Does she know her father?” Parker saw the fire reignite in her eyes. “And yes, I know it’s none of my business.”

Ginny smiled a little. “No, it’s not. And no, she doesn’t know him. Now, I hope you have a safe trip back to wherever it is you live.”

For a second he’d thought she might be softening. “I have to say, you sure are anxious to get rid of me.” He walked toward her and she seemed to shrink back, into the hall. She didn’t look all that confident now. He stopped short, not wanting to spook her further. Ironically, he’d been heading for the front door, about to give her what she wanted. “Do you hate me that much?”

“I don’t hate you, Parker.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Actually, I’m glad you came. The not knowing was hard. It’s been a while since I’ve thought about you and that last night before you left, at least consciously, but it feels good to have some closure.”

He put his hand out to her. She looked at it, hesitant, confusion swirling in her eyes, then she laid her palm on his. “I’m sorry I caused you any pain,” he said, tugging her closer.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting but—”

“Expectations are for suckers.” He’d learned that the hard way, but the lesson had stuck. “Just one drink, okay? I promise not to grill you, and I’d like to catch up before I leave. You name the time and place.”

She gazed up at him, her confusion giving way to a flicker of excitement. He hoped it was more about the electricity that still arced between them than about him mentioning leaving. “Maybe,” she said. “That’s the best I can do.”

Parker nodded. “It’s more than I deserve.” He lowered his head, and before she could protest, he planted a quick kiss on her forehead. Then he continued on to the front door before he did something stupid.

If anyone knew why he wanted to see her again he wished they’d explain it to him. He’d made his apology. Got his answer about her daughter. He should be relieved. His life was in Alaska. He was never going to leave there. The rest of the world revolved just fine without him. And luckily, he’d managed to find some peace in his life. Everything about living in his cabin, miles from civilization, suited him to a T. It was safe, free of emotional entanglements, less messy.

He and his business partner Mark Schwartz flew cargo, primarily to the outlying districts and small villages near waterways. They both flew out of Fairbanks, although they rarely ran into each other. Mark did most of the Anchorage deliveries. Parker liked delivering to the outliers.

He’d be a fool to allow anyone or anything to rob him of that life. Including the feelings building inside him. He’d felt the spark long before seeing it in Ginny’s eyes seconds ago. He’d thought about her over the years, generally with a mixture of fondness and shame. But the ache to hold her in his arms again, that was unexpected. And dangerous. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again.

Ginny hadn’t changed. She was a smart, compassionate, beautiful woman who deserved a good man, someone to share her life with and help raise her daughter. Someone a lot better than him.

* * *

GINNY STARED AT all the new cosmetics spread across her bathroom counter, defeat settling in every fiber of her being. Eyeliner pencils, a stupidly big eyeshadow palette, tubes of tinted moisturizers, highlighting sticks and a few other items she’d already forgotten how and where to apply. Did women really use all this stuff? Or did the saleswoman at the makeup counter know a sucker when she saw one?

It had been very expensive and now Ginny wondered how she was going to manage putting it to use when her hands were still shaking. She really needed to calm down.

Parker had left five minutes ago. And she honestly believed he no longer thought Tilda was his child. If he pressed, she had the consent to adoption Meg had given her. It was as good as a power of attorney, and had been witnessed by a social worker, who’d explained Meg needed it in order to give the baby up for adoption. The father’s name had never been on any documents.

It wasn’t until after several weeks—when Ginny had bonded completely with Tilda—that she considered adopting Tilda herself. She’d even spoken to an attorney about it, but the man had had concerns about the paperwork Meg had given her, and Ginny had been too nervous to move forward and have things blow up in her face.

By that time, Tilda had felt like her own daughter, and that hadn’t changed in all these years. But she still had that paper in her safe, and she’d use it if she had to. She just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

If Ginny chose not to meet Parker for a drink and didn’t bother to call, she was sure that would be the end of it. She’d never see him again. Which was her goal, despite the ache in her heart.

How could she still feel anything for him? Anything but disdain was nuts. He could’ve contacted her once he and his mom were in the clear. But he hadn’t.

Determined to put all thoughts of Parker aside for her big night at the reunion, she faced the makeup once again. Unfortunately, her exuberance waned as she picked up the gray liner pencil that promised a sultry, smoky-eyed look. Ginny recalled it involved a lot of smudging. Not gonna happen—she was sure she’d end up looking like a racoon. Maybe she should just bag up the lot and return to the store for some help from the saleswoman. Before she could decide, the phone rang.

“Dad?”